


Christmas Presents

by spanglecap



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Christmas Presents, F/M, Fluff, Natasha likes to torment Steve, Steve secretly loves it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-14
Updated: 2014-12-14
Packaged: 2018-03-01 09:30:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2768189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spanglecap/pseuds/spanglecap
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Natasha has a terrible sense of humour.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Christmas Presents

**Author's Note:**

> I wasn't planning on posting anything until perhaps next week but I had an hour or so free so my brain decided I should write this as it has been floating around my head for a few days.  
> I have this headcanon that Natasha doesn't laugh properly a lot but when she does she kind of snorts. 
> 
> (Again, I haven't Americanized any spellings, apologies)

Steve's phone rings. Loudly. But not loudly enough to make him want to answer.

He ignores it until the ringing stops, slipping back into unconsciousness.

It rings again, jolting him awake. He groans into his pillow but manages to reluctantly open his eyes. The light pouring in through the window tells him that it’s probably early morning, but he’d only just got back from a particularly exhausting mission a few hours ago.

Grasping at the phone, he briefly checks who’s calling before swiping at the screen to answer.

“This had better be worth waking me up, Nat,” he says, voice still rough with sleep as he rolls onto his back and rubs his eyes.

“Merry Christmas to you too, Rogers,” she replies dryly. “Have you opened your present yet?”

“What?” Steve says, confused. To be honest he’d kind of forgotten about Christmas until now.

“Your present. From me. I left it on your coffee table.”

“My coffee table,” he repeats, throwing the covers back. “And when exactly did you break into my apartment?”

“Come now, Steve. It wouldn’t be the first time,” she says slyly. It’s true. He’d always know whenever she’s in town because food would mysteriously vanish from his fridge and seemingly random DVDs and books would appear. Sometimes she’d leave him notes and it was usually only after the first couple of days that she'd physically appear.

“I changed my locks you know,” he says as he hauls himself out of bed and heads to the living room.

“It’s cute you think that would stop me.” He hadn’t thought it would stop her, no, but he had thought he should at least give the impression that he didn’t want her coming and going like she owned the place. In reality he doesn’t actually mind all that much. Not that he’ll ever tell her that.

“Have you got it?” she asks just as he reaches the table. It’s a small parcel, wrapped in silver paper with snowflakes scattered on it.

“Is it really so urgent that you had to wake me up just to open this thing?”

“Yes, Steve, it is,” she states impatiently, as if it’s of the upmost importance that he unwrap it immediately.

“Okay,” he says, picking up the small parcel on the coffee table and plonking himself down on the sofa. “Got it.”

“Wait, wait a minute,” she says suddenly. “Put me on video call.”

“I’m, uh…not dressed,” Steve admits. He’d been so tired when he got back from the mission, he’d stripped down to his boxers and fallen into bed without even bothering to shower or eat first.

“I need to see you face when you open it,” she argues.

Steve lets out an exasperated sigh, because he knows there’ll be no point quarrelling with her. Once her minds made up, there’s no changing it. Besides, he reasons, it’s nothing she hasn’t seen before. It’s hard not to catch at least glimpses of your partner when you’re sharing hotel rooms on missions.

Setting the phone upright against a glass on the table, he switches the call from audio to video and Natasha's face fills the screen. He can’t stop the corner of his mouth quirking up as he sees her, looking like she only just woke up herself, hair dishevelled and skin with no trace of makeup.

“Okay, open it,” she instructs, and it looks like she’s trying to hide a smile. He’ll admit, he’s curious to see what all the fuss is about.

“Stop rushing me,” he says, lifting the tape up and peering inside. He pauses to glance up at her as he glimpses a familiar colour scheme. Surely not. Natasha watches him, eyes glinting mischievously. He rips off the rest of the paper.

Captain America underwear. She’d bought him tight, star spangled, Captain America boxer briefs, his shield logo plastered all over the crotch, complete with the slogan "I Use Protection" on the elastic of the waistband and a cartoon drawing of his face on the tag.

Jesus.

“You have the _worst_ sense of humour, do you know that?”

Natasha tries to stifle a laugh and ducks out of view, presumably to hide whatever laughing fit she’s having. She’d probably been waiting months for this moment. He leans back in the sofa, puts the boxers to one side and suddenly realises why she’d been so insistent that he open it while she could see his reaction. He hears the occasional snort as he waits for her to collect herself enough to speak. She reappears in the frame of the camera, biting her lip to hide her grin.

“So glad you like them,” she says, managing to sound completely serious even though he knows in her head she’s still laughing.

“I didn’t even know they made these,” he sighs, picking the boxers up again and inspecting them properly. “Who do you think approves these things? S.H.I.E.L.D? Fury? Do we have a marketing department?”

“I’m not sure,” she admits. “But just think, somewhere in the world, someone is patenting the designs for pants with your face on them.”

“I really hope not,” he jokes in a sombre tone, but can’t stop the grin that breaks out across his features. She may have a ridiculous and occasionally twisted sense of humour, but he’s never been able to stop the swell in his chest whenever she laughs.

“Stark wants to know if you're coming over to to the Tower later for dinner,” she says, changing the subject. 

“Yeah, once you've finished tormenting me."

She smiles wickedly, but her eyes are playful. He knows she isn't going to stop tormenting him any time soon.

"I'll see you later then." Steve nods and reaches for the phone. "And Steve?"

"Yeah?"

"You'd better be wearing those boxers later," she says sternly. Steve laughs.

"How are you possibly going to know if I am or not?"

“Oh, Steve,” she says in a suddenly sultry tone. “I’ll check of course."

Steve bites back a groan, and tries not to think about how exactly she might go about doing that. 

“You’ll be the death of me, Romanov,” he exhales, chest tight. She knows that he's attracted to her, and likes to remind him of it every now and again. As if he could forget.

"Only in the best way, I hope," she teases, and before he can say anything else she hangs up. 

Steve decides to get that shower he was going to have before he fell asleep. A cold one.

There are times when Natasha Romanov is the most infuriating woman he's ever met.

But he doesn’t know what he’d do without her.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm getting into the old festive spirit, hope you are too!
> 
> I'll have another gift for you around Christmas Eve! :)


End file.
